


Waterproof

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Bunker (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hair Washing, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: the universe gets tough and smallso dubbin up your bootsmake sure you're waterproof





	Waterproof

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an original idea by eruthiel.

“I said, sit down, and stop making such a fuss.”

Dave merely scowled at him, cradling his injured shoulder in lieu of crossing his arms. “I can wash my own hair, thank you very much.”

He rolled his eyes, pushed the memories of the incident further to the back of his mind – the sickening thud, Dave’s pale face as he lay motionless on the floor. “Stop being an idiot, Dave.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child.”

“That’s good to know, because you’re beginning to sound exactly like one.”

“I hate you,” Dave grumbled before slumping into the stool, wincing in pain as he did so. David helped him into a marginally less uncomfortable position, then started pouring warm water over his hair.

“You’re going to give yourself a stiff neck if you keep sitting like that,” he warned him, only getting a huff by way of a reply. “I’m not going to wring your neck, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Dave muttered, somewhat sarcastically, though David could feel some of the tension leave his muscles. By the time he started massaging shampoo into his scalp Dave’s eyes had fluttered shut, as if he was actually enjoying it.

“Hmm, you’ve got gentler hands than I was expecting,” he heard him mumble, tried not to focus too much on how nice his soapy hair felt under his fingers. The bruise on Dave’s cheek was already turning purple, a stark contrast to his pale complexion and the auburn of his hair.

“I swear, mate, if you’re going to fall asleep on me,” he began, only to trail off as Dave let out a contented sigh. He shrugged, then went on to rinse out the shampoo, and towel his hair dry.

“All right, pretty face. I’m not going to style your hair for you, so we might as well get you back into bed.”

“Spoilsport,” Dave pouted, his voice getting thicker as the painkillers seemingly started to kick in. David shook his head in grudging amusement, placed Dave’s uninjured arm around his own neck, and all but carried him back to his room.


End file.
